And here is a picture of my voodoo doll:
No! No, I kid. That is the picture for Day Two of the photography challenge.
Today's challenge: What I Wore.
I'm assuming the prompt is referring to what I wore today, and because today is just another day in the life of this writer/student/researcher I got to wear my loungey clothes! And yes, that does make me happy!
As you may have surmised (because you're a very clever reader, I know you are), my morning has been largely spent doing research into the migration of slave owners and their remaining slaves after the revolution on Saint-Domingue (later Haiti) to New Orleans, and Louisiana. Mostly if and how this impacted American slaves in the practicing of their religions throughout the South, and in particular the Mississippi Delta region. Vodou becomes Voodoo, and DOES it spread out like tendrils of smoke from the ruins of Saint-Domingue? And DOES it change and stretch and grow and creep into something new, and strange, and wonderful? Well, for that you'll just have to dig up my doctoral dissertation... when I finish it... which shouldn't be a terribly lot longer.
Bug, you are saying to me, why are you doing all this work if you don't want to be a professor? I don't know. No, that's not true. I do know. On the long list (the ridiculously long list) of things that I do not like, in the top five is "Quitting." That and I'm really, painfully, idiotically stubborn. Probably those two things are related somehow.
And, one day, if I ever finish this thing and they decide to get rid of me by awarding me a doctoral degree, I'll be quite content to open my bakery every morning with a sign that reads: The Doctor Is IN. Or, you know, figure out what it is I want to do that seems also plausible to do. I'm feeling sick just thinking about it.
OH! And SPEAKING of feeling sick:
Dear Main J-City American Food Eatery,
a word, if you please.
WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME WITH CHICKEN STRIPS?
A few months ago I ate your chicken strips they were perfect--light, buttery breading with, most importantly, NO PEPPER. Today I decided to order out and--SHOCK! HORROR! BURNING PAIN IN MY MOUTH! Pepper everywhere. I mean, come on fellas! Give a girl a break here! I had an hour for my lunch and you've bloody ruined it. Thanks for the Dr. Pepper, it was the best part of my horrible meal. Henceforth that is all I'll be having at your establishment.